Teenage Dream
by Stephane Richer
Summary: I know you get me, so I let my walls come down


Teenage Dream

Disclaimer: I don't own Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream" or Tatadoshi Fujimaki's _Kuroko no Basuke._

* * *

The thirteen-hour flight ends quite smoothly. There is, of course, the slight bump as the wheel of the plane hits the asphalt of the runway, but overall it's very well-done. Midorima Shintarou is quite satisfied—the flight was, after all, expensive as hell. It might be a little too smooth, though. Beside him, his boyfriend, Kise Ryouta, is still fast asleep. He's not a particularly heavy sleeper, but it would be nice to have the plane wake him up instead of having to do it himself. And he totally doesn't want to do it because he's lazy; it has nothing to do with the adorable look on Ryouta's face and the way he's leaning on Midorima's shoulder. Not at all, no way.

They finally arrive at the gate, and he figures he might as well wake up the other now. He extracts himself from the somewhat awkward position of Kise's headrest, and gently shakes him. Nothing.

"Hey, hey, Ryouta. Wake up, damn it." Still no response. At this point, he might just be playing with Midorima.

With a sigh, Midorima adjusts his glasses and pinches Kise hard on the wrist. The blonde can't help but leap up, banging his head on the low plane's ceiling.

"Ow…Shintarou…"

"I was afraid I might have had to drag you out of here, still sleeping," Midorima mutters.

"You wouldn't carry me?" Kise grabs his boyfriend's arm, which is quickly yanked away, with Midorima accidentally-on-purpose hitting him on the chin. "Shintarou, so mean!"

"Go die."

* * *

Kise is still quite tired, so much that he can't keep up his favourite pastime (teasing Midorima) for very long, and they're actually walking quietly instead of bickering when they find Murasakibara Atsushi waiting for them (not that it would be hard to find a man nearly 210 cm tall with purple hair and eyes eating a giant rainbow lollipop anyway).

"Long time no see, Murasakibaracchi!" Kise says, perking up a bit.

"Let's go to a café." It's not a proper greeting, but it's Murasakibara. That will have to do.

Midorima excuses himself to grab their luggage from the baggage claim while the other two find a café. Kise promises to text him which one they choose, and sure enough, as he's waiting for the baggage at the carousel his phone buzzes. He sighs. He hasn't been here for even an hour and he's already regretting the decision to come. They have to pick up the baggage, check in at the hotel, go to the rehearsal dinner, and that's just tonight. And somehow they need to get into the city and find their hotel, which probably involves some sort of train or bus and getting tickets for that. So why had he decided to come, anyway?

* * *

"Hey, Shintarou! Guess what, guess what?" Kise holds out two light-pink envelopes, each inscribed with their address and one of their names.

Midorima doesn't bother to turn around. "What?"

"Aominecchi and Momoicchi's wedding invitations arrived!"

Midorima shrugs. "We already knew they were getting married, and that we would probably be invited."

Kise's not listening; he's tearing open his invitation. "Ooh, they're having it in New York!"

"What?" New York? Really? Hell if he's going to that. As rarely as he gets to see his two old friends, and as important their wedding is, having to take time off from work would be problematic to say the least. Plus, the trip would take at least fifteen or sixteen hours, counting transportation to and from the airports…

"New York! I guess because that's where Momoicchi works."

"I'm not going."

"Shintarou!" Kise closes his laptop and grabs Midorima's face, pulling it inches away from his own so he can really stare into the other's green eyes. "Please?"

Despite his best efforts, Midorima's face grows hot. "No."

"But Aominecchi and Momoicchi will be so disappointed!"

"They don't like me very much."

"PLEASE?" He bites his lip and strokes Midorima's cheek. His resistance, never that strong to begin with, is rapidly crumbling.

"You'll have to do something for me, as well," he says, placing a kiss on Kise's nose. He has no idea why these horribly cheesy lines work like magic on his lover, or why they ever did in the first place.

Their clothes are off in a few seconds and they're rolling around on the bed. Midorima shoves his cock down Kise's throat and the blonde begins to eagerly suck and lick. He can never get enough of this, of Kise's mouth moving against him, right hand intertwined in Midorima's left as Midorima starts to jerk him off with his own right hand and they're both short on breath.

* * *

So there he is, Newark Airport in the middle of the afternoon, carrying both his and Kise's heavy suitcases back to Starbucks. It's easy to spot their table; it's the one crawling with fans.

Murasakibara is quite a successful NBA player (he's been an all-star every year he's been in the league, has led the Golden State Warriors to an NBA title, and has been named Defensive Player of the Year twice), and his distinctive looks are very hard to miss. Even though he's never played for a local team, he's got his admirers here. He's lazily signing autographs as Midorima approaches, and he seems surprised and delighted to receive a gift of food from one young fan.

"Oh! The new hazelnut orange mocha Pocky? Where did you find this! I've been looking all over." His normal shyness is erased by the proximity of a new treat.

"Oh!" The fan blushes and looks down. "I saw it at the grocery store and I'd heard you were in town…"

"Thank you so much!" he grins and promptly starts devouring them like he's chain-smoking a pack of cigarettes. The resemblance is both uncanny and incredibly scary.

The fans dissipate and Midorima sits down. Kise has gotten him a hot mint tea and is sipping on his own coffee, but falling asleep still.

"That Kagami guy's fans never give him sweets," Murasakibara remarks. "They stay away from him because he's too intense all the time. I don't get how he still has fans."

Midorima shrugs. He really has no time to deal with petty grudges from their high school days. Can't Murasakibara be happy with the one ring he has? It's one more than Kagami Taiga does. Kagami's Atlanta Hawks have made the playoffs most years since he started playing, but they've never made it past the second round once. Most of the time, they run into bad luck, playing a team that the commissioner's office wants to succeed. On more than one occasion that team has been Aomine Daiki's Philadelphia 76ers. Not that the Sixers have won a championship, either, but they seem to perennially make the conference finals. Still, friendships and rivalries have carried over from high school to the NBA, and the fans eat it up.

* * *

They take a cab from the airport, at Murasakibara's suggestion. This will be much easier than Midorima had been expecting, and the relief and lack of need to pay attention to where they are finally lifts his need to be awake and he falls asleep in the back of the car. Kise has gone back to sleep, too, and they intertwine hands and arms and legs and necks until they look like a giant pretzel.

From the front seat, Murasakibara can see all this through the mirror. He smiles, munching on a bag of Cheetos he bought at the airport news stand. It's cute.

They manage to somehow get checked in and it wakes them up, so much they can't go to sleep again when they get into their room, and they're feeling a little hungry so they decide to take a walk. They end up in this crowded fast-food joint on Eighth Avenue in the 40s. Their English is rusty but passable, even though Midorima is only half paying attention because he's worried his lucky cocktail umbrella might get snapped.

He begins to second-guess his decision to regret coming here. It's not so bad, when it's just the two of them, speaking in undertones and playing footsie under the table and eating each other's fries.

The jet lag is catching up with them in time for the rehearsal dinner that evening, but everyone else is tired, too. It seems like they invited half of the NBA, though most of them are Momoi's clients from her sports agency. She's invited some of her other famous clientele, too, actors and singers and baseball players, including that guy who was the center fielder on Midorima's high school team. He didn't realize that guy was such a big deal. All the other people from Japan (who still make up a majority of the guests—it really would have made more sense to just have the wedding there, in Midorima's opinion) are as tired as they are, and no one's really paying much attention at all. Besides, they'll get to talk to everyone tomorrow at the actual wedding.

* * *

The morning's free and they've both woken up way too early, and the bed is too cozy to leave. Midorima's nibbling at Kise's earlobe, making him giggle. Kise tries to shy away from the sensation, and he ends up kind of gently head-butting Midorima in the chest. It's way too adorable for Midorima to handle, so he rests his head on top of Kise's and hugs him closer because he really, really wants him and won't let him go.

* * *

The wedding is lovely, until all hell breaks loose, because honestly what else could one expect from a bunch of basketball players and former players? Murasakibara eats about half the wedding cake before he gets bored of it and Akashi pulls him away. One of Aomine's teammates is keeping a log of how many of the bridesmaids he can hit on, but he keeps mixing them up because they're all wearing the same dress and he's terrible with faces. Papa Mbaye Siki is dancing on his own, being unable to find any pretty girls less than ten inches shorter than he is. Kagami is in a heated argument with some guy Midorima doesn't know about whether beef or pork is more delicious. Kuroko is taking photos. Kise is writing stuff down for his fashion magazine. As for the happy couple themselves, they're nowhere to be found, probably off at their hotel suite already.

Midorima is sipping on a rum (luckily, they have his favourite brand) and Coke, and watching the scene unfold , fingering the pearl ring in his pocket (today's lucky item). Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Akashi approaching, dragging Murasakibara behind him. The bar is on the other side of the room from the cake, so perhaps it's for the best. On the other hand, the purple-haired man really can't hold his liquor (a surprise considering how tall he is).

"What are you having?" Akashi nods at Midorima.

"Rum and Coke."

Akashi turns to the bartender. "Two glasses of rum, straight."

Oh, god, not this again. They'd been playing a never ending drinking contest (never ending because Akashi refused to concede defeat) ever since their senior year of high school. With a sigh, Midorima hands his half-finished rum and Coke to Murasakibara. One glass of rum would probably be enough to knock him out right there, so it would be better to give him the mixed drink. Plus, it was sweet enough for his tastes.

The bartender returns with the glasses. Akashi takes a slow sip; Midorima gulps down a third of the glass. Not only can he drink more, he can now drink much faster than Akashi. Part of it is due to his much larger body, but most of it is because of Kise.

Their routines are stupid, but both Kise and Midorima cling steadfast to them. Kise initiates contact in public; Midorima shies away. Midorima buys a drink, allowing Kise to touch him a little bit, and so on and so forth. Most of the time, Midorima's not actually drunk, but just pretending so he can humour Kise. Well, really it's to humour himself and give himself a flimsy excuse. With each time, Midorima drinks more and more, until his tolerance is like that of a three-meter tall fat Russian sailor.

He finishes the glass, places it back on the bar. "Could I have a refill, please?"

Murasakibara is almost finished with his drink. His eyes are fluttering. "Sei-chin…"

"Wait, Atsushi."

Kise's finally done with his fashion thing, and he waltzes over to them, taking note of Midorima's half-filled second glass and grabbing his hand. Midorima lets him.

Akashi's still not done with his first glass yet, but he, too, seems to be tired. The alcohol's catching up with him quickly. Midorima sees him stifle a yawn, just barely twitching but the movement is there. Is it really going to be that easy? He downs the rest of his second glass.

The rum is actually kind of getting to him now, as much as he won't admit it. Combined with the jet lag and how little he's eaten today, his tolerance is lower than expected. It's still probably higher than Akashi's. Kise looks really, really adorable right now, clinging to him happily. Midorima kind of doesn't care, and besides, no one's looking at them anyway aside from Akashi and maybe the bartender. Fuck it. He'll never see the bartender again. He sits on top of the bar and leans in, intensely kissing Kise, They deepen it very slowly, but they both run out of breath and he collapses, leaning his head on Kise's shoulder. His head is spinning, and it's not the alcohol.

"Damn," Kise whispers. "How much of that stuff have you actually had?"

Akashi clears his throat and Midorima straightens up abruptly. His sobriety better not be tested here.

"We're leaving," Akashi announces. "Let us continue another day."

"So, two glasses for me, three-fourths for you?" Midorima says. "All right."

Akashi and Murasakibara walk out, leaning on one another. It's a wonder Akashi can support a guy who's got to weigh almost twice as much as he does.

Kise tugs on Midorima's hand, bringing him back to the moment.

"Shintarou?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too." And then he picks up the kiss right where they left off.

* * *

Everything after that is a blur, rough fingers and collars and buttons he can't quite remember how to undo even though he's been undoing them for years; lips and teeth up and down his abdomen; soft blonde hair in his fingers; the smell of sweat; the sound made when their chests smack together; Kise's sweet, _tight _ass, it's all so mesmerizing and it's hardly the first time but everything is so brilliant and it's the best sex he's ever had (not that he'll say that out loud, no way) and everything is so wonderful.

So maybe it was a good decision to make the trip, after all.


End file.
